The estate was just as loud in its silence as I'd expected—marble columns taller than most egos, wrought iron gates designed more for intimidation than protection, and men with eyes sharp enough to cut through steel stationed every few meters.
I drove us through the main gate without a word. Kairen had been unusually quiet since we got off the plane. The only sound he made was the occasional exhale—either a tired sigh or annoyance. I couldn't tell. Maybe both. He was sulking with the kind of energy that came from knowing you'd lost but still refusing to admit it.
The car rolled to a slow stop at the front steps. A butler-type was already waiting to take the door, and two guards stepped forward. I stepped out first. Kairen didn't move until I gestured. Even then, he took his time. Still barefoot. Hair a mess. Eyes half-open with exhaustion or contempt.
They'd prepared clothes for him. Something tailored. Dark. Modest but obviously expensive. I gave him a once-over as he was led into a side room to change. The boy cleaned up well. Didn't complain either. Just slipped out of his clothes like he'd done it a hundred times before. Like he was shedding a costume.
When he came back out, something had changed. His back was straighter. His lips set in that familiar cold smirk I'd seen in the old pictures from Jarek's files. The party boy was gone. In his place stood the heir to a crime empire—Kairen Alexei Kurov-Shin, prepped for presentation.
But I noticed the tremor in his fingers when he adjusted his cuffs. Small. Fast. Almost unnoticeable.
I didn't miss much.
The walk to the inner rooms was long—intentionally so. Security checkpoints every few meters. Guards we had to pass through like layers of muscle protecting a single, beating heart. The deeper we went, the quieter it got. Like the walls were absorbing sound. Like we were moving through a mausoleum, not a house.
And yet Kairen didn't falter. Not once. He wore that mask like it was etched onto his face.
But I'd seen him pissy and high, full of fire and fight. The version of him now—polished, poised, pretending—it was just another form of survival. And somehow, that amused me more than the screaming.
We reached the doors to Dimitri's study, thick mahogany that looked like it could stop a tank. Two guards stepped aside to let us in. I caught Kairen's glance—he was trying to figure out why I was still by his side while the rest waited behind. didn't ask, but the confusion was written in his brow.
I didn't answer. Just opened the door.
The room was drenched in expensive silence. Dimitri Kurov-Shin stood near the windows, mid-conversation with two men I vaguely recognized—politician types, maybe former governors. Not the kind of men you crossed without losing something important. They laughed at something he said. Even their laughs felt rehearsed.
And then Dimitri turned.
He didn't smile. Didn't need to. His presence alone bent the room around him. Broad shoulders wrapped in a dark tailored suit, a silver cufflink glinting against his wrist as he folded his hands behind his back. Same fiery eyes as his son. But colder. Older. More lethal.
"Ah," he said, nodding slightly. "My son returns. Safe and sound."
Kairen's smile was instant. Polished. Shining like glass over a pit.
"Of course, Father," he said smoothly, like he hadn't run halfway across the world just to avoid this moment. "Paris was… illuminating."
The two men chuckled, not because the joke was funny, but because it was safe to. They asked polite questions about his 'trip.' Kairen answered in fluent charm, talking about art galleries, culture, and air so clean it made his lungs ache.
I stood off to the side, silent. Observing. His hands were steady now. The tremor was gone. Good actor. Great liar.
Eventually, the two men gave their final respectful nods and stepped out. Dimitri watched them leave. The moment the doors clicked shut, the air dropped a few degrees.
No more smile on Kairen's face.
He turned to me, confused again why I was still present, watching everything unfold, then back to his father.
Dimitri didn't say anything for a beat. Just watched his son like one might study a problem. Then finally, he stepped forward.
"You've cost me quite a bit," he said, voice quiet. Too quiet.
Kairen tensed. Just slightly. But enough that I noticed.
Still, he didn't speak.
Dimitri kept walking until they were face to face. Then, without warning, his hand moved. Fast. Brutal.
The slap cracked through the room like a bullet.